Saturday for Lamar

Lamar is leaving tomorrow afternoon, so Plotnik racked 'em up and played his old pool games with himself last night. You throw out the cue ball and one other ball and you knock in the one. Then you throw out two balls with the cue ball and you knock them both in. Then you throw out three, and four, and try to keep knocking them all in until you miss.

Plotnik sometimes misses the first one, but then sometimes he knocks 'em all in. He's never really gotten past seven.

Or you can rack 'em all up and break 'em and then just whap whap whap pick off the easy shots and then whaaaaaaap the slightly harder ones and then ooooooops.

Or you can play rotation and try to knock 'em all in in numerical order, which is kind of fun. Sigh.

Or you can just toss the balls on the table and then shoot quickly, not allowing yourself time to think about it. Sigh.

But, really, none of it is really all that much fun unless you're playing with friends. Plotnik should have traded the pool table for a few pool playing friends. They're out there -- he just didn't do anything about it. But the good thing is now they can all come over and we can sit on the sofa. Just, uh, kidding.

Marco, who bought the table, is bringing his table guy over tomorrow afternoon to disassemble poor Lamar, remove his green felt and then his three piece slate, and his body, and then take off ol' Lamar's legs. They'll load him out the door and into the glue wagon, then when they've attached the weapon of mass destruction they'll set him back up in the day care center. Just kidding.

C'mon, CIA guy who is monitoring this blog. I AM KIDDING!